


Too Many Mushrooms

by MercedMike



Series: Neri Wolf [2]
Category: Nero Wolfe - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Detective, Fusion, Hobbits, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercedMike/pseuds/MercedMike
Summary: Neri Wolf and Archo Goodwine, hobbit detectives, tackle another mystery in Breetown.
Series: Neri Wolf [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839007
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Too Many Mushrooms

**Author's Note:**

> Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin are, of course, creations of Rex Stout. The setting is Middle Earth as created by JRR Tolkien. It is not necessary to have read the Nero Wolf series or The Lord of the Rings to read this story, but it will help to get some of the "inside jokes."

Wolf carefully tasted the sauce. Then he squeezed half a lemon very gently and stirred in three drops of juice. He tasted it again, and said, “Delectable. Bring the mushrooms.” There is not much that could move Wolf from the only chair that holds his five stone comfortably. But today he had left his comfortable old hobbit hole and walked up the hill behind the Prancing Pony to the Northcote Estate. The event was the annual picnic meeting of the Bree Garden Club and Wolf had agreed to furnish nibbles.  
He carried the sauce Neri, and I carried the carefully selected mushrooms from the tent in his garden. We arranged them on the feasting table and covered them with a napkin. Then we retired to our spot under the tree, me sitting on a blanket and him in the red leather chair I had carried up from the office. We were joined by Marigold Berrybush, the best cook in Bree or the Shire, and Theodoric Brandybanks, the best gardener, both in Wolf's employ. Many of our friends, hobbits and big folk, came by to chat.  
Soon it was time for the speeches. Lavender Northcote, president of the club, was describing all the goodies on the table,from smoked salmon on crackers to blueberry tarts. Wolf closed his eyes,and so did I. He did it to focus his attention on the speeches. I fastened my attention on my plans for the evening, which involved dancing with Lily Rowantree. Just as my thoughts reached their most pleasant, Wolf poked me with his toe.  
I jerked to attention to see Lavender extolling the wonderful mushrooms grown by Neri Wolf. With a flourish, she whipped the napkin off the plate and picked up a plump mushroom. She dipped it in the sauce Neri and popped it in her mouth with a beatific expression.  
But suddenly her expression changed to distress. She choked a few times and then fell to the ground. All of us immediately crowded around her as she gasped for breath. Then Chief Watcher Heathstraw appeared, and Doctor Herbwine pushed through the crowd. As Heathstraw tried to move the crowd back, the Doctor leaned over the victim. Shortly he stood up and shook his head.  
I glanced around for Wolf. He was standing by the buffet table, and I saw him drop something in his pocket. He motioned me over.  
“We can do nothing here,” he said. “Let's go home.”  
I was surprised, especially since it had been his mushrooms that were apparently poison. But he was already heading down the hill so motioning to Theodoric and Marigold, I led our group home.  
We arrived at the house, and Wolf said, “Time for gardening. Come along, Theodoric.”  
I could not believe that he would stick to his schedule in the face of this event but out the back door he went. I knew he refused to be disturbed during his garden time, so I sat at my desk and tried to deal with the morning mail and the expense records.  
I had been at it for less than an hour when there was a pounding at the door. I didn't have to ask who it was. I opened the door a crack, and Chief Watcher Heathstraw pushed his way in and kept right on going to the office. I followed him in and saw him staring at Wolf's desk.  
“Where is he?” he demanded. “I want to see him, and I mean NOW!”  
“Come, Chief Watcher. You know he spends the afternoon in the garden,” I retorted.  
“I don't believe it! He can't have that much nerve! I'll see him out there, then!” roared the Chief.  
“You know what will happen. He never talks to anyone while he is gardening. He will stand mute, and you will yell, and he will pull carrots, and you will yell, and you will learn nothing,” I said.  
“And you are almost as stubborn as he is. But this time you will talk. You know what happened with that plate of mushrooms!” he growled.  
“Mushrooms?” I mused. “Aren't they little round things to nibble on? I think I ate some once.”  
“You had better remember the plate Wolf brought to the picnic. What kind of mushrooms were they?”  
“Those were some of his finest, hedgehog mushrooms, what the elves call telluma nuru. He is especially proud of them.”  
“I bet,” said Heathstraw. “And what else was on the plate?”  
“That's all, Chef Watcher.”  
“Would you be surprised if I told you that there were four mushrooms left on the plate of a different type? Does he grow stinkhorns in that tent of his?” queried Heathstraw.  
“I keep all his garden records, and I never heard of that one,” I answered.  
“Maybe you know it by another name. It is called the Death Cap!” he said.  
I tried to control my face. After a minute, I said, “You need to talk to Wolf. I will go get him.” Heathstraw sat on the red stool we keep for the big folk, and glared at me as I went out the door.  
In the garden, Theodoric and Wolf were sprinkling the broccoli. As I approached, Wolf was saying, “Plenty of water for the broccoli. We want it robust.” I know he heard me coming, but he calmly walked over to the artichokes and began inspecting the heads.  
I raised my voice. “Heathstraw is in the office, and he wants to see you NOW.”  
“No doubt,” Wolf muttered. “He will need to be patient.”  
“I think you want to talk to him. He says some of the mushrooms you brought to the picnic were Death Caps.”  
“Indeed,” said Wolf. “I inspected the plate of mushrooms as soon as our lamented president fell to the ground. I am not surprised that he says that.”  
“You knew there were poison mushrooms on the plate and she got one?” I asked incredulously.  
“I did not say that, Archo. You heard what I said. It is almost time to go in. I suppose I had best talk to Heathstraw.”  
He took his time selecting a stalk of amaranth for the vase on his desk. Then we went into the office. Heathstraw jumped to his feet, but Wolf spent a leisurely few minutes arranging the flowers. Then he settled into the only chair that comfortably holds his five stone. Finally he gave his attention to Heathstraw,  
He said, “I like eyes at a level. Kindly be seated.”  
Heathstraw had fought that battle before and never won. He sighed, and sat down on the red stool.  
“Did Goodwine tell you?” he demanded.  
“Goodwine tells me many things. The morning weather report, his plans for the evening, the presence of visitors. He is very informative.” Wolf calmly replied.  
“You know what I mean!” roared Heathstraw. “There were four Death Cap mushrooms left on that plate! How do you think they got there?”  
“You have positively identified them as the deadly ones the elves call telluma gurtha?” Wolf inquired.  
“There were three mushroom growers there, besides you. All three of them agreed on the danger,” the Chief Watcher growled.  
“Undoubtedly you consider them experts?” Wolf asked.  
“Of course they are! Death Caps, without question.” Heathstraw barked.  
“You don't believe I grew them and put them on the plate?” Wolf inquired.  
“No, of course not. But the question is, who did? Everybody at the picnic was milling around that table before the speeches. Any one of them could have slipped five mushrooms on the plate. That line of inquiry is futile,” Heathstraw moaned.  
“Then you need to concentrate on who might have grown them. Let us not shilly shally. Go out now and have Theodoric show you my mushroom tent. Satisfy yourself before we begin.”  
“WE begin? You aren't going to interfere in this case!” Heathstraw snapped.  
“Pfui. They were my mushrooms, Chief Watcher. My integrity is at stake. Of course I am going to investigate. You have many men, I have only a few. You follow your course and I will follow mine. Now, to the garden and inspect my tent.”  
“I'll do just that,” said Heathstraw. He marched out the back door with a determined look. Before long he was back, looking somewhat mollified.  
“OK,” he said, “I understand that there are only five other mushroom growers in Bree. They don't use tents, they have dug their farms from the walls of the Northcote cellars. I'll have my men check them all.” He stomped down the hall and out the door.  
I started to say something, but I looked at Wolf and he was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, and his lips moving in and out. I never disturb him when he is doing that. It went on for a few minutes, and then he opened his eyes and said, “Archo. Have Sol here by dinner time.” So he picked up his book, and I went looking for Sol.  
I found him just where I expected, at a table in a corner of the Prancing Pony. Sol Plumtree looks like a stable hand but he is the best operative around. Short, even for a hobbit, with a big nose, the hairiest feet in Bree and wearing a beat up old cap, he won't be noticed in any crowd. In case he was on a job, I gave him the high sign and went out the back door and waited for him. It turned out that he was free and delighted to have an invitation for dinner.  
We don't discuss business at the table so as we dined on Marigold's trout in parsley butter, mashed taters and strawberries with new cream, Wolf discoursed on the comparative merits of the lute and the fiddle, Just as we finished dessert he concluded the lute for singing and the fiddle for dancing.  
After dinner he told me, “Archo, find out who inherits the Northcote estate. Have them here at 10:00 tomorrow.” Someday he is going to ask me to find out how many Tooks live in the Great Smials and have a couple of dozen of them here in an hour. He thinks I can do anything. I knew I wasn't going to get anything else out of him, so I walked on down to the Prancing Pony. Sol stayed behind for instructions so I figured Wolf didn't think I had a need to know.  
You can learn pretty much anything you want to know about Bree in one hour at the Pony. Of course I was asked more questions than I got to ask, and had to dodge answering. By perseverance, I soon knew that there were four cousins who were all in line for a piece of the estate. Two of them were in the Pony, so I invited them on the spot,. Naturally curiosity was enough incentive to offer. It was too late to go looking for the others so I went home to bed.  
I annoyed Fritz the next morning by rushing through his eggs in brown butter and blueberry muffins, but I had to hustle to get our guests lined up by the time Wolf came in from the garden.  
The first one lived at the estate, so that was easy. Finding the last cousin was more of a job. I finally tracked her down in a row of round hobbit houses near the wall. I knocked on the door, and it was answered by a small hobbit lady in a nondescript dress and an apron. My nostrils twitched at an effluvium floating out of the room behind her.  
I asked, “Miss Northcote?”  
She replied, “Oh, just call me Kitty.”  
I was puzzled. “I was looking for Miss Lavender Northcote?”  
“Oh, that's me. But everybody calls me Kitty,” she laughed.  
I had a fairly good idea why. Four cats were twining around her ankles, and I could see at least eight more sprawled on cushions and chairs around the room. She picked one up and began stroking it as we talked.  
I explained about the gathering of cousins. She seemed reluctant to leave her kitties, but they say “curiosity killed the cat,” so she finally agreed to the meeting.  
I beat it back to our hobbit-hole and worked on the financial records. A few minutes to 10:00 there was a knock and all four of them showed up. I let them in and placed them in the office. The one named Buttercup Northcote was easy enough on the eyes to make it worthwhile she got the chair nearest my desk. Just on a whim I put Miss Kitty in the red leather chair.  
Promptly at 10:00 Wolf came in, carrying a single long stemmed tulip for the vase on his desk. He settled himself into his chair, and then surveyed his guests. “Archo?” he asked.  
I introduced them, starting with the red leather chair. “Miss Lavender 'Kitty' Northcote, niece, known as the 'Cat Lady of Bree'. Mr. Theophilus Took, nephew by marriage. Mr. Rombo Hedgerow, first cousin once removed. And Miss Buttercup Northcote, also a niece.” Wolf gave each of them a one quarter inch nod in turn.  
“I offer you my condolences at your loss. I am sure you are as anxious as I am to unravel this mystery,” he began.  
“What mystery?” It was Rombo, pointing a finger at Wolf. “Everybody in Bree knows you mixed up the mushrooms. You killed her!”  
“Indeed,” Wolf replied calmly. “But you see, Mr. Hedgerow, everybody in Bree does NOT know that. There is at least one exception, and that is me. You see I know exactly what I put on that plate, and there were at least five mushrooms I did not put there. Let us assume someone with a motive for eliminating Mrs. Northcote put them on the plate sometime during the time before her ill fated speech. The Watchers will be exhaustively investigating that possibility. It would be pointless to duplicate their efforts. I would like to learn a little about the four of you before I continue.”  
For the next hour Wolf fired questions at them. For all the good he did he might as well have stuck to his book. He learned that Rombo liked to play the ponies and, although he did not admit it, was probably in debt. Kitty had all those cats to feed. Buttercup had butter for brains and gave him nothing. And Theophilus Took was incensed at being here and refused to answer any personal questions,  
At 11:00 Marigold entered and said, “The man about the paintings sir.”  
Wolf surveyed the crowd and said, “That is her way of announcing it is time for elevenses. You will join us and we can resume after.”  
Theophilus stood up and said, “Nonsense. We have wasted enough time. I am leaving.”  
Buttercup simpered and remarked, “Mr. Wolf is said to have the best cook in Bree. I certainly will try his elevenses.”  
Theophilus snorted and stomped out of the hole. The others followed me to the dining room, and Marigold outdid herself with berry tarts, goat cheese on crackers, and marinated olives. After taking our time with them, we went back to the office.  
Wolf kept on poking. He learned from the rest that Theophilus lived a lavish lifestyle and they all wondered how he supported himself. They agreed that they were the joint heirs to the estate. They agreed that Mrs. Northcote had received a fairly comfortable living from renting the farmland she owned. She even rented space in her cellar to the five mushroom farmers, and one grower of white asparagus.  
“White asparagus?” I asked.  
“Archo, when asparagus is grown in darkness, it does not produce green pigment but remains while. It is a gourmet luxury.”  
“Uh huh,” I nodded.  
He kept picking at them but getting nowhere. Finally he thanked them for coming and they filed out the door.  
“Archo,” he said, “I imagine Chief Watched Heathstraw is standing outside. Invite him to lunch. Then have those mushroom farmers here after lunch, and that asparagus fellow too.” He proceeded to give me further instructions how to deal with Heathstraw. Then he picked up his book and began reading.  
I stepped out on the porch, stretched lazily, and breathed deeply of the clear air. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a bush rustling. I strolled over to it and said conversationally, “Hello, Chief Watcher.” A little chagrined, Heathstraw emerged from the bush.  
“I take it you checked all the mushroom farms?” I asked.  
“Yeah. None of them have those mushrooms in them.”  
“That's what Wolf thought. So he is going to try another idea, and he needs your assistance.”  
I explained Wolf's plan to him. He muttered but agreed to his part in it. He went off to gather what Wolf requested, and I went up the hill to invite the underground farmers to the conference.  
Both Sol and Heathstraw came in just before lunch and they and Wolf conferred briefly. We all ate heartily of Marigold's rabbit ragout, celery from our garden with elvish cheese, and vanilla pudding with macaroons. Of course there was no talk of business during the meal, but Wolf came perilously close by discussing mushroom culture.  
After lunch, Heathstraw went down the hall to the small alcove we have ready there. It has a sliding panel which gives a good view of the office, but on that side it is concealed by a picture of a waterfall. Wolf went into the office and settled himself. I sat at my desk with my notepad, and Sol took a yellow leather chair back into the corner.  
All of the farmers arrived in a group. I seated them in the office, and Wolf was downright affable in greeting them. He began to talk about insignificant subjects, but soon I realized he had eventually steered the discussion to garden pests. The farmers began describing their difficulties.  
One mentioned that he was bothered by tunneling shrews. Wolf suggested obtaining fox droppings and placing them around the edge of the garden. Another was bothered by slugs, and Wolf advocated a line of salt that they would not cross.  
Mungo Darkbank, who grew the white asparagus, spoke up. “It's these blankety spiders that bother me, Mr. Wolf. Spin their webs over me plants, they do.”  
Wolf replied, “A more difficult problem, sir. Catching and smashing them might work.”  
Then the discussion turned to other crops they might grow above ground. Three of them rented plots from Northcote, one for an apple orchard, Farmer Maggotty for cauliflower and Brussels sprouts, and Darkbank for regular green asparagus. The Northcote estate itself grew flowers, lemon trees, and taters on their own land.  
That is an example of the kind of inane chatter that went on and on. But finally Wolf said, “Let us turn to more vital things. Archo, would you admit Chief Watcher Heathstraw?”  
Heathstraw came in, greeted Wolf cordially, and placed something covered with a napkin on Wolf's desk.  
Just then there was a knock at the door. Marigold came in and said, “The guests you were expecting, sir.” Behind her the four heirs crowded into the room.  
“Ah,” said Wolf. “I thought you should be here for this demonstration. Have seats.” He removed the napkin to reveal the plate of mushrooms from the picnic. A sort of collective gasp went up from the farmers and the heirs. I kept my eyes on them all but could not pick out one who looked more concerned than the rest,  
“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, these are the very same mushrooms all Bree is talking about. You have kept them safe in a cool place, Chief Watcher?”  
Heathstraw nodded. “Second Watcher Broadleaf never let them out of his sight.”  
“Farmers, I invite you to inspect this plate,” Wolf said.  
The five mushroom growers approached the desk. One of them, the youngest, said, “Four Death Caps are still on there!” The others nodded, except for old Farmer Maggotty. He was looking very closely at the plate.  
He reached for Wolf's letter opener, and said, “I wasn't at the picnic. May I?” Wolf nodded, and he stabbed one of the odd mushrooms with the letter opener. He brought it to his nose and sniffed delicately. “Ha!” he exclaimed.  
He looked at his fellow farmers. “Take a sniff of this,” he said. Carefully each of the farmers smelled the mushroom. Then Maggoty demanded, “What does it smell like?”  
One said, “Earthy.” Another said, “Sort of like taters.”  
“Ha!” said Maggotty again. “But don't you know that Death Caps have a sweet honey smell? Those ain't Death Caps at all! These be FALSE Death Caps! They ain't really edible but they ain't poison!!”  
The farmers gasped in amazement. Heathstraw grabbed the mushroom impaled on the letter opener, and gave it a good sniff. “Is he right?” he demanded of Wolf.  
“Of course he is right. They are the mushrooms called telluma risagurtha. In fact I learned that from my gardener Theodoric yesterday. You see I took the liberty of bringing home one of the odd mushrooms. There were originally six on the plate,” said Wolf mildly.  
“And you didn't think anybody needed to know this?” Heathstraw demanded.  
“Knowledge becomes evidence only it can be linked to criminal activity. Surely NOT doing something is not a criminal activity, Chief Watcher. You had the mushrooms, they were all the evidence I had. You should have investigated further,” Wolf asserted.  
“Bah. Then what killed her?” Heathstraw began. Then he stopped and looked thoughtful. “Oh...” he muttered.  
“Indeed. If it was not the mushrooms, then it was the sauce,” agreed Wolf. “I suspect the false Death Caps were just a red herring, designed to draw attention away from the sauce.”  
“But you made the sauce too! What was in it?” Heathstraw demanded.  
“The ingredients are mine, Chief. But it was not poisoned when it was set on the table. I gave it a final tasting, in front of witnesses, just before I put it there.”  
“So we are back where we started,” Heathstraw growled.  
“Indeed,” agreed Wolf. “But now we must ask, who would have wanted to add the poison? Did, perhaps, one of the heirs need to hasten their inheritance? I had some inquires made.”  
“I had four Watchers checking into that, Wolf! I doubt you learned anything they didn't?”  
“Perhaps, Chief Inspector, you did not ask the right question in the right way in the right place. Sol, your report, please.”  
Several of them started up with surprise, not having even noticed Sol blending into his background. Sol looked at Wolf and asked, “Dump the whole bag?” Wolf nodded.  
Sol reported. “I spent last night hanging around the Boar Fountain sort of letting it be known I was looking for a little action. I spent a bit of my expense money with a character known as 'The Stablehand.' Of course he doesn't have anything to do with the actual labor at the stables. He took a silver piece on the nose of a nag named 'Wolfbait.' I thought that was appropriate, but she came in fifth in a pack of six. In conversing with the gentleman, however, I learned that Mr. Rombo Hedgerow does a lot more than just take a flyer on the ponies now and then. The Stablehand seemed rather anxious to talk to him.  
“I popped into a few of the rooms around that area, and it wasn't long before I spotted Mr. Theophilus Took. I sort of stayed behind him, and before long two big men came up and escorted him outside. I followed and was just in time to hear the words 'or else' from one of the ruffians. Then I had to duck out before somebody recognized me.  
“Well, I wandered around here and there, and mentioned the name 'Buttercup'. I got a lot of winks, and pretty soon somebody mentioned a private bridge club around the corner. I had a nice chat with the steward and after I offered to buy a glass of brandy for him I got far enough into the club to notice the name of that fair hobbit maid posted up for being behind in her dues. Of course in a nice club like that, being posted is the ultimate shame.  
“Well, those three were easy. I sort of despaired about finding anything about the Cat Lady. Lo and behold, I passed a copper coin to a vendor, and muttered the number 328 just for fun. He nodded and took my coin, and as I turned to leave, there was Miss Kitty with a list of numbers. I sort of listened in, and it turned out that each of her 28 cats got to pick a number. Betting that much every day could mount up. By the way, turned out 327 was the winning number.”  
“Indeed,” said Wolf. “Satisfactory, Sol.” That is his highest accolade. “So it seems that any one of them, in their own way, could have felt desperate.”  
At this point, Theophilus Took stood up. “So this has all been a waste of time. I'm leaving.”  
Heathstraw walked over to him. “I think, good hobbit, you should sit and listen to this. Unless you want to go down to the jail and talk some more about it.”  
The asparagus farmer Mungo stood up and asked, “Who was that trying to leave just now? I think I know him.”  
Wolf said, “This is Mr. Theophilus Took.”  
Mungo said, “I met him three days ago. I thought it was strange. He introduced himself as a scientist from the Mathom House and asked for spider corpses to study. I had a few that I had just killed so I gave them to him.”  
Buttercup, bless her little brain, spoke up. “But he doesn't work for the Mathom House. What would he want with spiders?”  
. “I also took the liberty of bringing a sample of the sauce home from the picnic,” Wolf said. “Take a sniff of it.” Wolf nodded to Heathstraw.  
Heathstraw removed a small spice jar from his pouch, He sniffed it, and grimaced. “Lemon juice! Very strong.”  
“But I only use a few drops of lemon juice in that sauce,” Wolf stated.  
Buttercup bounced in again. “Then somebody else must have put it in!” That gal had a talent for the obvious.  
Rombo was looking thoughtful. “Remember Theo making fresh lemonade for us at the picnic? I recall he had a lemon left over in his basket.”  
Wolf produced a lemon, and a piece of straw. He said, “It is possible to cut a very small hole in a lemon, and insert a straw like this,” demonstrating as he spoke. “Small amounts of liquid could be introduced into the lemon and the straw removed. Later, it would only take seconds to squeeze the lemon juice into the sauce. If the poison were sufficiently strong such as spider venom, it could kill quickly.”  
Theophilus jumped from his chair. He yelled “Blast you!” and ran for the door. Heathstraw and I both had him before he could get away.  
“I think, Chief Inspector, that you should indeed take him along for a talk,” Wolf said quietly.  
Heathstraw grabbed him by the arm, not gently, and led him from the room.  
The rest of the crowd began buzzing. Wolf, however, levered himself out of his chair and stated calmly,”It is time for me to go to the garden. Thank you all for coming.” There was a flurry of questions, but Wolf simply walked out. He had done it all without having to disrupt his time in the garden. It took some time for me to herd them all out.  
Two hours later, Wolf came in, munching on a carrot. Tossing the tops into the wastebasket, he settled down and reached for his book.  
“Just a minute,” I said. “I know it was all a product of your genius, but can I have some clue how you did it?”  
“Simple deductions, Archo. A murder requires three things: motive, means, and opportunity. We learned that all of the heirs had motive, and opportunity was easy with all the activity at the picnic. The thing to concentrate on was means. The Watchers did a good job of searching for Death Cap mushrooms among all the growers, as I knew they would, but I knew that was not the means. It was only to serve as a distraction and slow down the investigation. I had to find someone who had the ability to poison the sauce. You heard me discussing pest control with our good farmers. When I heard one of them was killing spiders that was an obvious place to look.  
“But the asparagus farmer had no apparent motive. I needed to establish a connection between him and a greedy heir. Obviously Miss Buttercup did not have the mental equipment for such an elaborate scheme, and Miss Kitty is totally preoccupied with her cats. That narrowed it down to Mr. Rombo or Mr. Took, I suspected Mr. Took, for reasons of my own, but needed confirmation. Therefore I tried bringing them together, ad it resulted in recognition. That was the only difficult step. The lemons were easy enough to find and even the mushrooms growing wild, although it seems he could find only six of the mushrooms, not a whole plateful. The farmer's recognition was the last link.”  
“ It seems that cousin lived too lavish a lifestyle and got over his head to the moneylenders. So he hatched this plan to hurry his inheritance and blame it on me. Archo, you remember we had a case last year which resulted in several bookmakers going broke. I am afraid that sporting hobbit had a grudge against me for inconveniencing him. That probably explains why he chose to embarrass me.”  
The next day, Heathstraw was enjoying lunch with us. We finished off Marigold's sturgeon sandwiches, white asparagus with cream sauce and apple pie, and then took our coffee into the office.  
“So he has confessed, Chief Watcher?” asked Wolf.  
“Indeed he has. It seems he had a grudge against you from the past,” Heathstraw replied.  
“Pfui!” Wolf snorted. “He put my reputation on the line. I had to foil him. But confound it, where can I send the bill?”

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: In modern taxonomy, the hedgehog mushroom is Hydnum repandum, the Death Cap is Amanita phalloides,and the false death cap is Amanita citrina. The Elvish names in this story are fanciful inventions of my own.


End file.
